Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [67]
“Look at those idiots. Smoking all the time. Don’t even care that it’s killing them and stinking up everything around them. And you know what? Every time I get a whiff, it just about kills me I want one so bad. Even after ten years.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked.
He shrugged. “I figured you thought I was an asshole.”
I considered. “And so you thought that telling me you hate tours and the people who take tours and that you’re only here to bribe your daughter not to hate you because you ratted her mother out to the IRS for petty revenge would change my mind on that?”
“Exactly. Well, and to point out it was my patriotic duty to turn her in. I had to.”
I started laughing. Across the room, the potato game was coming to an end and our group was splitting up, some leaving to go their rooms, a few returning to the bar or to our seats in the horseshoe. A disk jockey arrived and began setting up in the jumble of electronics behind the bar.
Jerry held up his empty glass. “Look at that. There must be a hole in the bottom of my glass. And in yours too.” He took my empty bottle from my hand. “Can I buy you another?”
“They’re free,” I pointed out dryly. “But sure.” And was rewarded with an unexpectedly sweet smile. Too bad he was so slimy that he practically left a shiny trail behind him.
He returned with the drinks just as the music was starting up. Handing me my beer, he said, “I don’t dance. In case you were wanting to.”
“Nope. Besides, you’re old enough to be my father,” I responded. “I wouldn’t want you to break a hip.”
“Ow! That was cold. And untrue. Very untrue. Maybe I will dance. Do you want to dance?”
“No, thank you. I don’t dance with geezers.”
Half-amused, half-annoyed, he was just opening his mouth to protest when Charlie de Vance tottered over. He was looking particularly snappy in red suspenders and a matching red bow tie.
“Dance, missy? My wife lets me loose on the single ladies before she’ll dance with me, and I can’t pass up a chance like that, now can I?”
“Yes, I’d love to,” I said instantly. I turned to Jerry. “Here, hold my beer, will you? And don’t spit in it.”
Charlie looked a little shocked and kept glancing back at Jerry as he led me to the floor. “You don’t think he would really spit in it, do you?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” I reassured him. “But I’d just told him I didn’t dance with older men.” He looked at me enquiringly, and I added, “I didn’t say anything about older gentlemen.”
He laughed at that. “You’re a smart one.”
We began swaying back and forth to the music. He held me very stiffly and correctly at arm’s length, and I saw Yvonne wink at me as we slowly crept by.
“Now be honest, Charlie,” I said. “Did you want to dance or were you performing a social rescue?”
He grinned sheepishly up at me. “Bit of both maybe. But it’s no chore on my part.”
As the song ended, he led me to where Yvonne waited, and I sat beside her.
“I’ll get your drink back, shall I?” asked Charlie, and slipped away.
Yvonne patted my hand. “Dreadful interference on my part. But I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to talk to that man for as long as you did. Besides he had the look of someone on the verge of drunkenness. I definitely noticed him swaying.”
“It was very nice of you. And Charlie.”
“Yes, Charlie’s very special.” Her expression softened a moment, but then she tapped my arm smartly. “So, did you find out anything of interest?” she said with a gleam in her eye.
I suddenly had the feeling that, without knowing it, I’d become her own personal private detective. Or her pawn. I wasn’t sure I liked how easily she had manipulated me, but I had to give her credit for intelligence and determination.
“I know what he told me,” I said slowly. “It sounded true, but that doesn’t make it true.”
She nodded. “Good. The minute you realize that anyone could be lying, you have an edge.”
“He said this trip is a bribe to his daughter to make up for something unpleasant he did or is doing to her mother.”
“And you believed him?”
“I did. It was pretty unflattering to himself. He had no reason to